


Working Hard at Hardly Working

by Ononymous



Series: Father's Day/Asgore Week 2019 [6]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 23:21:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19305925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ononymous/pseuds/Ononymous
Summary: Asgore finds himself in need of relaxation, so seeks the advice of the greatest relaxer of monsterkind.





	Working Hard at Hardly Working

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Relaxed

"Breath in..."

_Ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-bum..._

"...and out." Warm air ruffled the Doctor's actual feathers. "Heart rate's a little high for a resting position. Not dangerous, but something to keep an eye on."

"Alright, Doctor."

Doctor Drake put down his stethyscope and picked up a wooden stick and a torch. "Say 'Ahh', sir."

"Ahhhhhhh..."

The tongue depressor vibrated in the Doctor's inexplicable gasp as Asgore complied with his request in a solid bass note. A small torch was also mysteriously held in the Doctor's other wing, examining the King's mouth and throat.

"Hmm, a little dry, but otherwise fine," muttered Doctor Drake, "might need a visit to the dentist soon."

Asgore's tongue twitched in discomfort at the idea. The Doctor pulled out and let him close his mouth, before prying his left eyelid open and shining the torch upon it, before repeating this with the right.

"Very bloodshot," he said. "You said you were feeling unusually irritable. Can you be specific?"

Asgore tapped a horn in recollection. "Oh, well, it was an incident that made me aware of it. I was making tea for... for a friend, and I dropped and smashed a cup. And before I knew what was happening, I cursed rather loudly. And she- they gasped. They aren't used to me cursing at such a minor thing, and neither am I. That helped me realise I'm not properly balanced at the moment."

"Hmm..." Grey wings flicked through a pile of notes and records. "Irritability, reduced appetite, bloodshot eyes, slight dehydration, elevated heart rate: At first glance, I'd say it sounds like fatigue. You might need more sleep, sir."

Asgore looked confused. "I don't feel tired at all."

"Likely because your body's gotten used to it. Like background noise you forget is there until it's gone."

"Still, I don't feel like I've been neglecting sleep. I mean, there were quite a few late nights when we were settling the peace treaty, but since then I've settled into a routine. I usually sleep from eleven to seven."

"Well that sounds like the right amount..." Feathers tickled the base of his beak as he reoriented the puzzle in his head. "Can you recall your dreams?"

"My dreams?" Asgore shifted slightly in the wide chair. "I think so. I can't say they're very pleasant most nights, but I usually recall one scene pretty clearly, at least when I first wake up."

"Just the one?" Doctor Drake dug into older, yellowing records. "Past times we've discussed sleep issues, after emergencies in the Underground. you could recall three or four different dreams each night. Monsters can flick wildly between different dreams when all is well. Your brain's fixated on specific events. Are they the events I'm thinking of, sir?"

"...yes."

"Perfectly natural, but that focus means even though you're unconscious for eight hours, your brain isn't getting enough of the rest it needs, the rest that produces dreams as a side effect. If I had to guess, it's caused by chronic stress."

"Chronic stress?" Asgore repeated. "But I've dealt with stress my entire career as King. And six or seven particularly terrible times of stress."

"Yes yes, when you fought the humans," said Doctor Drake, lacking tact. "I helped you with two of them. But you've had an eighth period of stress recently. And a sustained one. The negotiations with the humans."

"Hmm... yes, we were all worried that they would be a disaster for us. Thank goodness they worked out."

"Indeed. Sir, the difference is although your stress crises in the Underground were more intense, they lasted only for a few moments, and no pressure afterwards gave you time to deal with it afterwards, for the most part. There were years between them, so you could focus on not focusing on them. Wrangling the treaty however took weeks, and it didn't help that you were discussing the humans that fell Underground. So if I had to guess, it all weighed on you, the anxiety of what might happen and the remorse of what did. Even though it's done and dusted, your brain has adapted to thinking about it all the time, even if you don't think you're thinking about it. So now that stress is lingering, interfering with your sleep and leading to these symptoms."

"I see..." Asgore nodded slowly as the theory clicked with him. "So what would you recommend for chronic stress, Doctor?"

"There are medicines and magics we could try, but they're rather brute force about forcing your brain to sleep the right way, and they don't bring about much long term improvement once treatment ends. Honestly, a change in behaviour is your best bet. You need to train your mind and body to properly relax."

"That sounds interesting," said Asgore, smiling, "but, erm, do you know what that entails?"

"In theory. But I'm not an expert. However I know who can help you..."

* * *

_Knock knock knock._

Frankly, Asgore was perplexed when told who to seek for his stress. And yet, it made more and more sense to him as he walked over to the house.

 _Click. Swing._ "'sup, fluffs?"

"Howdy, Sans. May I come in?"

"sure thing."

Asgore followed the skeleton inside, careful not to step on some rubbish on the floor, and sat on the sofa. Sans parked himself on the coffee table in front of him.

"birdbrain gave me a heads up. so you wanna figure out how to switch off the bad times?"

The King decided not to challenge Sans' phrasing. "Yes, I do."

"well sorry, no can do."

"Oh..." Asgore perched his hands to hoist himself to his feet. "I am sorry for bothering-"

A bony hand pushed on his knee. "hey, keep your tail parked there, bucko, i was only joking!"

"Oh!" Asgore forced a chuckle. "That was funny!"

Sans' unchanging eye sockets remained unchanged. "it _should_ be funny. but you're just sayin' that outta manners. which is great, manners are awesome as long as i don't have to do anything. but if you're actively decidin' it's funny instead of just knowin', you are a preoccupied guy."

Asgore exhaled, unaware of when he had breathed in. "I suppose that makes sense, Sans. For my health, and for my friends and family to stop worrying, I need to relax."

"an' that's where i come in. i'm a world class relaxer. an' i know not to relax the wrong things an' cause an accident." Sans started eating a hot dog that hadn't been there a moment ago.

"So I am told. Can we begin?"

"sure thing. first thing is posture." Asgore started fidgeting, trying to sit upright. "uh-uh, nope, wrong, asgore. lie down."

"Lie down?"

"did i alphys? one arm rest is a pillow, the other is where your feet stick out 'cuz you stretch too much. turn that sofa into a bed."

"B-but, what if I cause a mess?"

"an' there's the notion i'm tryin' to _stress_." He winked. "sittin' upright, acting like a respectful guess, tryin' not to slouch, that's even more mental energy you're burnin'. you gotta let go of that small fry stuff before you get to what's really buggin' ya. the sofa is your own bed now, and a short but really cool skeleton is gonna pay you to totally slob out on it. hop to it!"

It took a while, given Asgore's feet touched the floor once sticking out past the arm rest, and a lot of fidgeting to avoid his horns catching anything on it, but eventually the King now lay in the prescribed parallel position rather than the expected perpendicular, hands joined resting atop his broad chest.

"'kay, pal. howzat feel?"

"...my shirt feels a little tight in this position."

"ah, gotcha."

The buttons along the pink floral shirt shimmered blue and moved of their own accord. The right hand side of the shirt tumbled away over the edge of the sofa, revealing a round and firm torso of white fur, specked with gold along the middle. Asgore's arms leapt to cover them, but found themselves shimmering blue as well and planted alongside his body.

"no worrying about what the neighbours think, it's nothing i ain't seen in a locker room. in fact," Sans lifted his own shirt to show Asgore his spine and ribcage, "i'm showin' off more than you. grin an' _bare_ it."

Asgore realised his arms could move again, but he didn't dare surrender to modesty, instead just examining the ceiling while waiting for Sans to speak again.

"so, how comfortable do ya feel?"

"...a little. I've felt more comfortable in my own bed, for instance."

"okay. gonna get up an' go to bed?"

"...no. This is comfortable enough, right now."

Sans' grinned, as he always did. "that's an important breakthrough, asgore. bein' just comfortable enough an' not worrying about maximum comfort. _goat_ to hand it to you."

"Oh, thank you," he said. "So what do we do now?"

Sans gripped the edge of his table. "not gonna lie, cap, this part is the tricky part. from what the doc was tellin' me, you're lingerin' on all those bad times we do not want to have. to stop dwellin' on them, we need to gather them up. so tell me, what's been eatin' you?"

Asgore didn't hold back, his horizantal orientation helping them pour out. "Losing my children. Declaring war and losing my wife. Killing those humans. What I would have done if I had fought Frisk. The well deserved contempt Toriel had for me when she returned. What my crimes may have meant for you all if the humans made a major issue of them. My betrayal of everything I thought I stood for."

"hmm... 'kay, i want you to gather them up. everything you just mentioned, bundle it in your head like you're sharing it on the undernet." Asgore obliged, not noticing the dampening of his cheek fur from tears. "got it gathered?"

"...yes..."

"good. aaaaaaand... stop."

"...stop what?"

"stop thinkin' about 'em."

"Um... how?"

"well you know how you're currently imagining everything you've done you feel guilty for in the last century?"

"Yes..."

"stop that."

"Yes, but... how?!"

"by thinkin' of something else. i find a blue stop sign works in a pinch." Asgore's eyes narrowed in concentration. "you stopped thinkin' about 'em yet?"

"...no. Now I'm just imagining a blue stop sign in the background."

"okay, new plan. maybe you need a little night _cap_ first."

"A nightcap? But it's lunchtime."

"think the time of day matters when you grew up without the sun? relaxation waits for no monster." Sans handed over a red bottle that hadn't been there earlier. "just a few sips. to take the edge off."

Rather vexed, Asgore found himself obeying, sucking up a thick sugary substance into his mouth and swallowing. He rubbed his chin where some had gotten by accident, and stained his finger red.

"Hmm. Tangy. But nice."

"yup. helps reset your mind. so now we're gonna try-"

"Sans," said Asgore, "I am sorry, but I don't feel I can do it. Forget, that is."

"forget?"

"What I did. To act as though it never happened, to forget it all. It would be a false peace at best. A lie, basically"

Sans regarded Asgore for a while, before reaching inside his hoodie and pulling out a photograph. Asgore couldn't see what it was, nor make out the scribbled note on the back before Sans put it away again. His unchanging skull gave an aura of deep thought.

"...that's true. forgettin' it is just a lie. good thing that's not what i'm askin'."

"I don't understand."

"i tried, forgettin'. never could."

Asgore raised his head slightly. "Forgetting what?"

"can't explain, just makes your head itchy. it's not about forgetting. it's about being able to set it aside. tellin' it ' _go sit in the corner, daddy's busy right now_ '. it'll still be there when you're done lazin' or sleepin', ready for you to pick up and deal with. forget? never. those times make you who you are. just focus on somethin' else for a while so you don't go nuts."

Asgore blinked, not used to skeletal sincerity from this angle. "Like what?"

"well i like to use the time i convinced papyrus his battle body was breaking copyright law, but i doubt that'll work for you. had to be there. so let's try this: the bad times. gather them up again." Asgore's face scrunched in concentration. "aight. i'm gonna snap my fingers. when i do, i want you to swap over to a really good time. a memory that makes you happy."

"But... my happiest times were all before I-"

"okay okay, lemme rephrase. pick a memory, but don't dwell on how it makes you feel now. focus on how you felt then. grab that good feelin' an' don't let go. ready?"

"N-no."

"we never are." He snapped.

Asgore shut his eyes as though in pain, muttering something Sans couldn't make out. His whole body was rigid, putting every ounce of mental energy he had into taking it easy. A novice to these sessions might have hit a panic button, but Sans knew how the walls had to crumble. No use worrying about not worrying. He looked down at his phone to send a text to Doggo reminding him of poker tomorrow night, and looked up just in time. The strain on Asgore's face melted away, and the tension in his muscles fled. One arm slumped onto the floor, free of any conscious oversight. His eyes remained closed, though more tears were welling up.

"looks like somebody had a breakthrough," said Sans, still grinning. "why the long face, though? the tears, i mean."

"...such a happy moment," he whispered."

"ah, gotcha. makes sense. how ya feelin' right now?"

"...light... free... tired..."

"sounds about right. lotta effort to get in the proper relaxing mindset. hey, i'm goin' to grillby's. want anything?"

"...hello, tori..."

Asgore's breathing slowed and became more regular. Then he started snoring. Been a while since that happened, Sans thought, must have been super intense. Asgore's slumbering form shimmered blue, and lifted off the sofa with no visible effort. He floated towards the stairs, Sans in pursuit as he dialled a number on his phone.

"yo, pap, got someone going through a _royal_ pain right now. cool if he borrows your bed for a bit?"

"OF COURSE, SANS. JUST DON'T HARRASS HIM WITH YOUR FLATULANT JAPERY!"

"c'mon, bro, when would i ever do that?"

"I'M TEXTING YOU THE INCIDENT LOGBOOK RIGHT NOW, NUMBSKULL!"

"alright, cool. later." He hung up, satisfied at a job well done.

Asgore heard none of Sans' conversation. He was busy holding Toriel's hands around a campfire. Then he was watching his son and his father look at the stars through a telescope. Then Undyne and his Mother were having a friendly spar in a field, cheered on by their friends. Then eight humans were playing with a single monster. Then the weight of his crown was gone, Asriel was finishing school and everyone was applauding, including his old friend Rudy. Then he was in a small shop with beautiful flowers stuffed into every nook and cranny, a rusty metal box locked tight on the counter. He had no idea where the key was, but knew it could wait a while.

A comforting hand rested on his shoulder, though he didn't know who it was. He exhaled, despite not remembering inhaling. And on to the next dream.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think, and thanks for reading!


End file.
